Create Something Special
by snowfwake6
Summary: Twelve year old Nicolas Feuilly grew up in the French countryside. It was his home. But when his Mother is struck suddenly with illness and passes, Nicolas is sent to live in Paris with his uncle, an old fanmaker he has never met before.
1. Chapter 1

The sun was hot in the sky on July 15, 1819. It shined it's bright rays onto the French countryside of Alsace. The grass was long and luscious. A child could lie in the grass and be completely lost to the world.

That's where Nicolas Feiully found himself that day. He liked to go into the green meadow outside his cottage and immerse himself in the grass. All of his troubles seemed to go away. He was one with the earth.

"Did you know that if you stare up at the clouds for long enough you can see pictures in them?" He asked. There were no people around, just a little white goat that lay beside him. "See Madeline, there's a duck, and a barn, and that cloud looks like a goat like you."

The goat bleated and rested her head on Nicolas' stomach. "Do you ever get lonely Madeline?" Nicolas asked. "Do you ever wish you had other goat friends to play with? Maybe next time Agathe goes to Strasbourg we will go along and look at all of the goats in the market."

Madeline got up and started running around the meadow. "You're right, Madeline," Nicolas said. "We should get moving. Let's gather some eggs for Mama." He stood up and started running toward his little stone cottage. The goat followed him.

The chicken coup stood behind the cottage. Nicolas started to open the door but he heard an old woman call his name. "Nicolas! Nicolas Feuilly!"

Nicolas jumped down from the coup and ran to the front of the cottage. Agathe, his housekeeper and nanny, was attaching their horses to the cart. "What is it Agathe? Where are you going?"

Agathe climbed into the cart. Her face was tired and sweaty. "You're Mother's illness has taken a turn for the worse. I'm going to Strasbourg to get the doctor."

"Can I come along?" Nicolas asked.

"No," Agathe said. "I need you to stay with your Mother. Make sure she drinks lots of water. If she asks you for something, get it for her."

"Yes, Agathe," Nicolas said. He ran into the house as Agathe pulled the cart down the road. Nicolas walked into the front room and opened the door to his Mother's room.

His Mother lay on her bed with her eyes closed. Her face was wet and so was her hair. She heard the door open. "Agathe?" She asked quietly.

"No, Maman. Nicolas," the boy said. He walked closer to his Mother.

Mrs. Feuilly lifted her hand and stroked Nicolas' face. "My son," She said weakly.

Nicolas was afraid to touch his Mother. He didn't want to hurt her. He didn't understand why she had suddenly become so sick. Just last week she was perfectly fine. But she had developed a cough and found herself getting frequently nautious. Her body started to become sore and lately she didn't want to even leave her bed. "Drink some water," He told his Mother.

"No no no," His Mother said. "I'm not thirsty. I'm tired."

"Then get some rest," Nicolas said. "Do you want a cold cloth to put on your forehead? Or a warm cloth? Is there anything you need?"

"My son," She said again. "I don't need anything. I just- will you tell me a story?"

"Yes Maman," Nicolas said. He sat down on the bed. "Once there was a king. He was a very rich king, but a very greedy king. He had everything he could have ever wanted, but it wasn't enough for him. Something was missing. He didn't know what. Then he got an idea. He sent out a proclamation saying that everyone in his kingdom had to give him a gift. He said it had to be a gift grand enough to please a king. So everyone in the kingdom searched and searched for the perfect gift to bring. They brought him fine plates, fabrics, and riches. But one man didn't know what to bring. He was a very poor farmer who struggled to feed his family. He had no money to spend, or items fit for a king. So he decided to give the king the only thing he had- an old cow named Gretta. He walked Gretta all the way to the king's palace and presented her to the king. The king was furious. 'This cow is not good enough for a king!' He shouted. The man begged the king to accept the gift for it was all he had. The king finally accepted. But just as he did the man's little daughter came out from behind the man and said 'Please don't take my cow, she's my friend.' Then the king started to cry. The man asked the king why he was crying the king said 'I have finally realized what is missing. I don't have a friend.' Then the little girl said 'I'll be your friend' and the man said 'I'll be your friend too.' They all become friends and the king wasn't greedy anymore."

When Nicolas finished his story, his Mother was asleep. He kissed her forehead and ran his hand along her back until Agathe appeared at the door with the doctor from Strasbourg. "She's sleeping," Nicolas said.

"Thank you for watching her Nicolas," Agathe said. "You may go now."

"Yes, Agathe," Nicolas said. "Is there anything you need me to get?"

"Just go play," Agathe said. Nicolas nodded and walked out of the room. He stopped in the front room where Madeline the goat was waiting for him.

"Hello, Madeline," Feuilly said. "Agathe told me to play, but I don't feel like playing right now. Maman is very ill, you know. I told her a story. She's sleeping now." He sat down at the table and drummed his fingers on it's surface.

He thought back to the night six years ago when his Father was struck with phenomena. It was a cold night and the fire in the fireplace kept going out. Nicolas sat on his Mother's lap on the same chair he was on now. Nicolas didn't understand why his Mother was so worried. He thought that since the doctor was with him, it was assured that Father would get better. He remembered falling asleep on Mother's lap and being shaken awake by his Mother in the middle of the night. "You're Father is not here anymore. He's in heaven," His Mother had told him.

Back then, Nicolas wasn't quite sure what death was. Once a fox came through and killed all of their chickens. Another time a baby cow was born dead. But his Father wasn't a chicken or calf. He was a strong man. He could pull the plow all by himself and lift a grown cow out of the mud.

His Mother wasn't nearly as strong as his Father was. She got tired easily and sick easily. But Nicolas had never seen her this sick. He wanted to see how she was. He walked back into her room.

"How's Maman?" Nicolas asked.

"Shh Nicolas," Agathe told him. She stood in front of him to block his view. Nicolas looked to the side of Agathe. His Mother had a blanket over her head.

Nicolas took a few steps back. "Is she dead?" He asked.

"Nicolas," Agathe started to say but it was too late.

"She is isn't she? She's dead!" Nicolas grabbed Madeline the Goat and ran out of the cottage with tears in his eyes.

Agathe watched him from the door. "Nicolas! Nicolas Feuilly!" She shouted after him.

Nicolas ran to the meadow and fell down into the grass. He could see his Mother's face when he looked into the clouds.


	2. Chapter 2

One week later…

Nicolas walked through his barn with tears streaming down his eyes. "Goodbye Lanny," He said. "You were such a good cow. You gave us lots of good milk." He pet the cow and the head and walked to the next pen. "Goodbye Snowbell. You're a very pretty horse. I'll miss riding you."

Just outside he knew Agathe was talking to a man from Germany who bought their farm and all of the animals. He also knew that soon a carriage would come by that would take him to the big city where he had to live. He ran his hand down the side of the barn. He didn't want to leave.

"Nicolas!" He heard Agathe call. "Our carriage is here! Get your things!"

Nicolas wiped his eyes. "Coming Agathe," He said. On the grass outside the barn sat a suitcase with all of the belongings Nicolas was taking with him. He picked up the case and walked around the house.

"There you are," Agathe said. "Come on let's go."

Nicolas was reluctant to move forward. "Can't we just stay here a little while longer?" He asked. "I don't want to leave the farm."

"Nicolas, the farm belongs to Herr Scholz," Agathe said. "We have to go. Your uncle is waiting for you in Paris."

Nicolas' goat, Madeline ran up to him and brushed her head against his leg. "Do I have to leave Madeline too?" Nicolas asked.

"That goat will do you know good in Paris," Agathe said. "Now come along."

"But Madeline's my favorite goat. She's my friend," Nicolas said.

"I know, Nicolas. But you'll meet lots of friends in Paris. There are many boys and girls there for you to play with." She patted the seat next to her in the carriage.

"Farewell, Madeline," Nicolas said, kissing the top of her head. "I have to go, but there is a nice man named Herr Scholz who will take care of you, okay? Be a good goat. Goodbye."

Nicolas stepped into the carriage, laying the suitcase at his feet. The carriage took off down the road. Nicolas stared out the window at the fields and meadows they drove past. Agathe put her hand on his shoulder. "Maman gave Madeline to me after Papa died," Nicolas said. "I was lonely. She was my friend."

They drove past more cottages and meadows. "Why can't you and me just live at the farm together, Agathe?" Nicolas asked.

"It doesn't work that way, Nicolas. I worked for your Mama. Now I'm going to live with my brother, and you are going to live with your uncle."

Nicolas didn't understand why this was. He had never met his uncle before. He didn't even know he had an uncle until last week. Agathe lived with him for almost five years. She was like a grandmother.

"What is my uncle like?" Nicolas asked.

"I don't know him," Agathe said. "I know he owns a shop in Paris. He makes fans."

The carriage turned around a corner and started down a road that Nicolas had never been down before. "How big is France, Agathe?" Nicolas asked.

"Quite big," Agathe said. "Alsace is on the very edge of France. There is much more country to the west and south. There are twenty-two regions. Alsace is just one of them. To get to Paris we must travel through Lorraine and Ile De France. That's where Paris is."

Nicolas sighed. "France is such a pretty country," He said. He rested his head against the back of his seat in the carriage. He yawned.

"Are you sleepy, Nicolas?" Agathe asked.

"No," Nicolas said. He yawned again. "How many different places have you been, Agathe?"

"I grew up in Normandie," Agathe said. "That's where I am going after I drop you off at your uncle's."

"Have you ever been to Paris?" Nicolas asked. Rain started to fall. Nicolas was glad he was in a covered carriage.

"I've passed through Paris before," Agathe said. "It is very large, with lots of buildings. I think you'll like it there."

"It sounds very different from the countryside," Nicolas said. "I don't know if I'll like it."

"You're so imaginative. I know you'll like it in Paris," Agathe said. She looked over at Nicolas who was fast asleep on the seat. "Poor Nicolas Feuilly," She sighed. The rain picked up, beating against the roof of the carriage and watering the meadows of the French countryside.


	3. Chapter 3

Nicolas was jolted awake when the carriage came to an abrupt stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the carriage window. Tall stone buildings surrounded him. There were many people on the streets. "Are we there yet?" Nicolas asked.

"We are in Paris," Agathe said. "We should arrive at your uncle's soon."

Another carriage passed in front of them. "Look up there!" Nicolas said, pointing at a steeple of a tall church. "Have you seen anything so tall in your life? I wonder if I stood on top if I could touch the clouds."

"I'm not sure about that," Agathe said. The carriage moved forward. They passed more tall buildings and shops.

"There must be so many people in Paris," Nicolas said. "Hundreds maybe." He sat on his knees.

"Sit back," Agathe said. The carriage stopped in front of a shop with an apartment on top of it. A sign over the door read _Handcrafted Fans. _"We are here."

Nicolas jumped out of the carriage, nearly falling on the way down. The air in Paris was much different than in Alsace, and it was much more noisy. He ran to the door of the shop and opened it. Agathe followed behind him with his suitcase. She set it by the doorway.

A young girl stood behind the counter. She wore a brown dress and her blonde hair was pinned behind her in a bun. "May I help you?" The girl asked.

"I'm Nicolas Feuilly," Nicolas said.

"Nice to meet you," the girl said. "What can I do for you?"

"He's Maurice Feuilly's nephew. He's here to live with him. Aren't you expecting us?" Agathe said.

The girl pondered. "The Fanmaker didn't say anything about a nephew coming," She said.

"We sent a letter," Agathe said. "We rode here all the way from Alcase."

"Come on in," the girl said uneasily. "I'm sure it's okay."

"Thank you," Agathe said. She looked up at the clock on the tower outside the window. "I should be going now," She said. "Goodbye Nicolas."

"Goodbye Agathe. I'll miss you." Feuilly said, hugging Agathe. She ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek.

"I'll miss you too," Agathe said. "Good luck." She walked out to the carriage and stepped inside. Nicolas watched as the carriage pulled away from the window of the shop. He took a deep breath.

"Are you alright?" the girl asked, walking toward him. She sat on the window ledge beside where he was standing. "I'm Rosalite. I work for your uncle here in the shop. I know you're probably confused but we'll get this sorted out."

"Where's my uncle?" Nicolas asked.

"In his workshop," Rosalite said, getting up. "I'll go tell him your here. But I must warn you, The Fanmaker isn't used to children. He spends a lot of time alone in his workshop, and gets nervous around people." She opened a door leading to Nicolas' uncle's workshop. Nicolas stood alone in the shop.

The walls of the shop had beautiful fans hanging from them. Some were small, but most of them were very big. Everything in Paris was big, Nicolas noticed. He popped open the latches of his suitcase and pulled out an emerald broach that had once belonged to his Mother.

"Maman," He whispered. "Look at this place. Everything is so busy and huge. I've told many stories about big cities, but I never pictured them to look like this. I wish you were here." He ran his finger under his eye, afraid he might cry. He put the broach back in his case and closed it.

He looked at the door to the workshop. What if his uncle didn't want him? What if he wouldn't be allowed to live here? He wished Agathe hadn't left.

The door opened and Rosalite stepped out. "Your uncle wants to see you," she said.


	4. Chapter 4

Nicolas Feuilly stood at the doorway of his uncle's workshop timidly. The workshop was a small room dimly lit by a stream of light streaming through a small window. There was a large table in the middle and an old man sat up to the table facing away from the door. He carved a stick with a sharp knife-like tool.

Nicolas wasn't sure whether to walk in or not. "Hello," He said knocking lightly on the wall by doorway. The old man didn't respond. "Hello," Nicolas repeated, thinking his uncle didn't hear.

"Come in," The old man said quietly. Nicolas walked over to his table. Getting closer he realised that the man wasn't that old, his hair was just grey. He wore wire spectacles and had a grey moustache.

Nicolas searched his mind for something to say to his uncle. "I'm sorry if you didn't know I was coming," He said. "We sent a letter. Or Agathe did. It's just that you are my closest relative to me and when…"

"I knew you were coming. Sit," The old man said. Nicolas did what he was told. He looked at all of the perfectly carved wood sticks on the table.

"What are you doing?" Nicolas asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Carving," The old man said. He didn't look up from his work as he spoke.

"Are those sticks going to make a fan?" Nicolas asked. He picked up a stick that was sitting on the table.

"D-d-don't touch that," The old man said.

Nicolas careful set the stick down. "I'm sorry Uncle," He said. Then he stopped. "Shall I call you uncle? Or do you want me to call you something else?"

The old man still didn't look up. "Most people call me The Fanmaker," He said.

Nicolas didn't think that was a suitable name to call an uncle. "Is that what you want me to call you?" He asked.

The Fanmaker didn't say anything. He went back to his work. Nicolas got the feeling that he wasn't going to say anything else. "I better be going. Nice meeting you, Uncle." Nicolas got up slowly and walked to the door. He stepped out into the store.

Rosalite was dusting the ceiling corner. "What did The Fanmaker say?" She asked, setting down her duster.

"He knew I was coming," Nicolas said. "He was carving sticks to make a fan. He told me not to touch them. Then he told me most people call him The Fanmaker. But he didn't say that much."

"You're lucky he said that much. He hardly ever speaks to me," Rosalite said. She began to rearrange a display of small fans on the counter.

Nicolas noticed that his suitcase was still in the middle of the shop floor. "Where will I put my things?" He asked.

Rosalite walked out from behind the counter. "There is a spare room upstairs. That's where The Fanmaker lives- in the apartment above here. I'll show you." She opened a door which revealed a staircase. She walked up it and Nicolas followed her with his case.

Rosalite spoke to him. "So, you are from Alscase?" She asked. "What city?"

"No city," Nicolas said, struggling up the stairs with his heavy case. "We lived in a cottage in the countryside. We had a farm with animals."

Rosalite stepped onto a hallway at the top of the stairs. "What kind of things do you like to do?" She asked Nicolas.

"I like to play outdoors. I had a horse named Snowbell that I liked to ride, and I had a goat named Madeline that I would play with. There was a big meadow I would play in. And I love storytelling."

Rosalite pushed open a door at the end of the hall. It revealed a small room with a little bed by a window overlooking the street. "It's a little musty," Rosalite said. "It hasn't been dusted in a while."

"No, it's great," Nicolas said, setting down his suitcase. "I slept in the attic space of my old home. What kind of things do people in Paris do for fun?"

"Well, different people do different things. Many children play at the park down the way, but you may be a bit old to play with them. Um… The Fanmaker has lots of books. You said you like stories."

Rosalite stepped out of the room. Nicolas followed her. "I can't read books," He said. They walked back downstairs. "I just make up stories in my head and tell them."

"You should learn to read and write. Then you could write down your stories," Rosalite said.

"Can you read and write?" Nicolas asked Rosalite.

"Yes," Rosalite said. "My Papa taught me when I was young. I can teach you if you want me to."

"I'd like that," Nicolas said. He stood at the stair doorway and watched Rosalite walk around the shop. She moved briskly, rearranging fans and tidying the shop. She had a certain grace about her, she reminded Nicolas of one of the rich, proper ladies from stories. "Rosalite?" Nicolas asked. "Are you bourgeois?"

Rosalite laughed. "If I were bourgeois, I wouldn't be working as a clerk in a fan shop."

"You look like you could be," Nicolas said.

Rosalite looked down at her plain brown dress and laughed some more. "You're funny, Nicolas Feuilly. I'm going to like having you around."

Nicolas smiled then walked over to a pink floral fan hanging on the wall. It had blue flowers on them that reminded him of a dress his Mother wore. He looked over to his uncle's workshop door. He thought about how his uncle could never replace his Mother. His Mother would laugh and sing and play with Nicolas. His uncle had difficulty speaking to him. He tilted his head up to the ceiling.

"Are you okay, Nicolas?" Rosalite asked.

Nicolas nodded and said "One time I told my Mother a story about a little mouse who lived in a little burrow, and one day his burrow got destroyed and he had to move out and learn to live in the big forest. I feel like that mouse."

Rosalite smiled. "I think you'll learn to like it here," She said.

"The mouse did at the end of the story," Nicolas said.


	5. Chapter 5

When Nicolas Feuilly woke up the following morning, he was at first unsure of where he was. This was not his room in Alsace. Then he remembered he was in Paris. He sat up in his new bed and tossed off the covers. He wondered what time people in Paris woke up. They didn't have roosters to wake them, or animals to feed in the early morning.

He walked to his window and pulled back the curtains. There were some people on the streets but not near as many as yesterday afternoon. Nicolas got dressed and walked downstairs.

Rosalite wasn't there yet. He heard noises coming from his uncle's workshop. He looked inside. His uncle was at his work table, still carving the sticks. "Good morning uncle," he said.

The Fanmaker didn't say anything back. Nicolas bit his cheek. "Um… what's for breakfast? At my house my Mama used to make oats and sometimes we would have fresh eggs. What do you like to eat?"

The Fanmaker reached into his pocket and took out a coin. He set it on the table. "Go buy bread," he said. Nicolas walked over to him and took the coin. He dropped it into his pants pocket.

"Where can I buy bread?" Nicolas asked. His uncle only made a 'hmm' noise and continued carving.

Nicolas walked out of the workshop. Rosalite was still not there, so he decided to try to find a bakery on his own. He walked out of the fan shop and onto the Paris street. _There must be a bakery near here or he wouldn't have sent me out,_ Nicolas thought. But he didn't know which way to turn.

He thought he'd ask someone but everyone around him looked busy. They were all going somewhere and didn't want to be bothered. Nicolas started walking down the street, looking at all the shops. There seemed to be a shop that sold everything. Everything except bread.

After a few blocks, he reached a park. He ran to it, happy to feel his feet on grass. At the park, a few children played and some old women sat on a bench together. Nicolas looked around, suddenly forgetting which way the fan shop was.

He felt a finger tap him on the shoulder. He turned around to see a boy about his age looked at him. "Are you lost?" the boy asked.

"Kind of. Do you know the way to a bakery?" Nicolas asked.

"Sure I do," the boy said. "There's one right by the cheese shop. That's where I'm going. You can come with me if you like."

"Thank you," Nicolas said. "I'm not from around here. I don't know my way around yet."

"Are you a traveler?" The other boy asked.

"No," Nicolas said. "I am here to live with my uncle. I just got here yesterday."

They walked out of the park and started down the street. "Where are you from?" the other boy asked.

"Alsace," Nicolas said. "Near Strasbourg. We had a cottage in the county. My Mother just died and I had to move here."

"Sorry about that. It must be really different here than in the country. What's your name?"

"Nicolas. Nicolas Feuilly."

The boy reached out his hand. "It's nice to meet you Feuilly. I'm called Bahorel. How old are you?"

"I'm twelve," Nicolas said.

"Thirteen," Bahorel said. He started kicking a rock on the path. "I live in an apartment down the way." He pointed down the road.

"I live above a fan shop. I'm not sure where it is right now."

"Is it the fan shop with the red sign?" Bahorel asked.

"Yes, I believe."

"Isn't that where The Fanmaker lives?" Bahorel asked. "I didn't think he had a nephew, or any family for that matter. I heard he sits in his workshop all day and never speaks to anyone."

"He is my uncle," Nicolas said. "He can speak, he just doesn't speak very much. He's very shy I think."

Bahorel stopped in front of a bakery shop. "Here we are," he said. "The bakery. I better get going. Your fan shop is right down the road that way. I'll see you around, Feuilly."

"Thank you, goodbye," Nicolas said. He walked into the bakery and up to the counter. "I would like some bread," he said. He set his coin on the counter.

"What kind of bread?" the man behind the counter asked.

Nicolas didn't know there was different kind of bread. Agathe only knew how to make one kind of bread. "Just normal bread," Nicolas said.

The man turned and took a loaf of bread from the shelf. "Is this alright?" He asked.

The bread was a lot longer than the bread Agathe used to make, but everything in Paris seemed larger so he thought the bread seemed right. "Yes," Nicolas said. "Thank you." He took the bread from him and left the shop.

He walked down the road the way Bahorel told him to go and about a block later he came across the fan shop. It was a lot closer than he thought it would be, he had just turned the wrong way at first.

Nicolas opened the fan shop door and walked inside. Rosalite was now there standing behind the counter. "Good morning, Nicolas, where have you been?" She asked.

"The bakery," Nicolas said. "And the park. I've been all over the place, actually. My uncle gave me money to get bread and I kind of got lost."

Rosalite shook her head. "The Fanmaker has no idea how to raise a child," She muttered.

Nicolas took a piece off of the end of the baguette and ate it. "I like Paris bread," He said.

Rosalite noticed the book on the end of the counter. "Oh, Nicolas," she said. "I almost forgot. I brought these from my house. They are my old books my Father used to teach me to read. I thought you might want them, and I don't use them anymore. It might give you something to do."

"Thank you," Nicolas said. He took the book off counter and started flipping through the tattered pages. He could tell what the pictures were but the words seemed like nonsense to him. The only book he had at his old home was an old Bible that only Agathe knew how to read.

In Alsace, Nicolas didn't need to know how to read. He knew he'd grow up to be a farmer, and reading wasn't required. Now that he was in Paris, reading seemed more necessary. He couldn't even read the bakery sign. He decided that he would teach himself to read, no matter what it took. He ate another piece of bread and smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

It was a quiet day in the fan shop. Only two people came in and neither of them bought anything. Rosalite stood behind the counter drumming her fingers on the wood and watching the door, hoping that the people walking by would come inside.

Nicolas sat on the ground with Rosalite's book on the floor in front of him. He had had the book for almost two weeks now and was still trying to figure out how to read it. Rosalite told him that each little figure was a letter and each letter had a sound and put together they made words. All he had to do was memorize what each sound was and put them together.

But it was more complicated than that. Sometimes putting letters together changed their sound, and sometimes putting accents over the letters changed their sound. He stared down at a picture on a page of a cat and a mouse with three lines of words underneath it.

"Rosalite?" Nicolas asked. "This doesn't make very much sense. There are letters on the end of the words that don't fit."

"Letters at the ends of the words don't usually sound," Rosalite said.

Nicolas looked over the words again, mumbling to himself the sounds. Suddenly something clicked to him. "I think I got it!" he exclaimed. He ran to Rosalite. "It says Cat. Mouse. Cat chases mouse. Mouse runs."

Rosalite looks at the page. "You're right," Rosalite said. "How long did it take you to get that?"

"I started this page after lunch," Nicolas said.

"You're getting quicker," Rosalite said. "Soon you'll be able to read those pages as fast as you can talk."

"I don't know about that," Nicolas said.

"It took me forever to learn to read when I was young," Rosalite said. "My Father taught me when I was five or six. I had trouble learning the letters. But, that was almost ten years ago. I read pretty fast now."

"I'm going to try the next page," Nicolas said. He turned to a page showing a picture of two children playing with a wheel and a stick.

Rosalite watched Nicolas run his finger over the words on the page. She smiled. She liked having the little boy around. Her life had been very lonely before he came.

The door to The Fanmaker's workshop swung open. The old man stood at the doorway holding a beautiful silk fan in his arms. "It's beautiful, Fanmaker," Rosalite said, walking over to the man. He held it out and she took the fan from him.

Nicolas saw it and got up from his place on the floor. He still held his book in his hand as he walked to Rosalite. "It's so pretty, how do you make them like that?" Nicolas asked, running his hand along the floral patterned silk of the fan.

"Careful," Nicolas' uncle muttered to him.

"Oh, I will be," Nicolas said. "I'm teaching myself to read. I already know all of the letters and sounds. I can read words from Rosalite's books."

"Careful careful," The Fanmaker muttered again and turned around. He walked back to his workshop.

Nicolas stared at the workshop door. Why didn't his uncle like him? Why didn't he want to talk to him. Rosalite walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. "Don't let him get to you," Rosalite said. "He wants to be your friend, he really does. He just has trouble showing it, that's all. Why don't you try to read another page.

Nicolas nodded. "It says: He i-is br-o-o-other. Sh-she is sister. Th-th-they pl- they play to-to-to"

"Together," Rosalite said.

"Oh yes," Nicolas said. "He is brother. She is sister. They play together." He smiled. He liked figuring out words. He flipped the page again. The next page showed a man and a woman holding a rattle over a baby in a cradle.

"These are some of the same words as the last page," Nicolas said.

"Yes," Rosalite said. "Some words are more common."

"It starts 'This is', just like the last page. It says: This is…" Nicolas stopped reading aloud and read in his head. He ran his fingers over the page and sighed.

"What's wrong?" Rosalite asked.

"I don't want to read anymore," Nicolas said. He set the book down and ran upstairs.

Rosalite looked at the book he left on the counter. She read the words on the page.

_He is Father. She is Mother. They play with baby._

Rosalite looked at the stairs. Poor Nicolas, she thought to herself. She walked up the stairs and opened the door to Nicolas' room. He sat of the bed with his head resting in his hands. "Can I come in?" Rosalite asked.

"Yes," Nicolas said softly. Rosalite came into his room and sat down beside him. "The woman in the book looked just like my Mother," Nicolas said.

"I know how hard it is when someone you love passes away," Rosalite said. "My Mama died when I was just a baby. I couldn't imagine not having my Father too."

"I just can't stop thinking about her," Nicolas said. "I try to put her out of my head but I can't."

"You don't have to," Rosalite said. "She is your Mother. She'll always be in your mind. Sometimes you won't think about her as much, but she'll always be there."

"I know," Nicolas said. "Thank you Rosalite."

"You're welcome," Rosalite said. "I'm going to go back to the shop. If you need anything just come down."

"Alright," Nicolas said. Rosalite started walking towards the door. "Wait," Nicolas said. Rosalite turned. "Do you think my uncle really wants to be my friend?"

Rosalite smiled. "I think so," she said. "Just give him time."


End file.
